


Retributive Justice

by OrUpToTheThrone



Series: Agent "Colleague" [2]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Women, Backstory, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, POV Original Character, POV Original Female Character, Pain, Protective Aaron Hotchner, Recovery, Sarcasm, Strong Female Characters, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29552145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrUpToTheThrone/pseuds/OrUpToTheThrone
Summary: Reagan Levine joins the BAU.Please read the prologue short to this fic beforehand.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Original Female Character(s), Aaron Hotchner/Reader
Series: Agent "Colleague" [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2169402
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	1. First Suspicions

I arrived at the headquarters in Quantico a half-hour too early. I always arrived at things too early when I was nervous—hell, I’d wanted to die where I stood when I called Hotch to let him know I was cleared to work. Phone calls themselves made me shrivel.

The air in the building was cooler than it was outside, more fitting for my suit than the warm night outside. I would've felt like I could finally breathe if it weren't for my impending doom. When I got to the BAU’s offices, I stopped at the glass doors, peering inside. 

It was chaotic. Several desks had papers covering every inch of them, several agents were running corners, and there was a buzz that I could hear through the glass. Even so, it was a well-designed and tasteful unit, and I liked the idea of working in it full time.

_I only met him for a few hours two months ago; what impression did I give?_

_Oh no._

I planned to stand there thinking for ten or so minutes, as to arrive closer to the time I was expected, but I didn’t get the chance.

“Agent Levine?” A low voice suddenly spoke from right behind me. I dropped my transfer files, swinging around.

“ _Shit-_ yeah, that’s me.” I laughed it off, bending over to pick up the loose papers.

“Sorry. I’m Derek Morgan, an agent with the BAU. Call me Morgan,” the voice chuckled. I looked up at the voice, identifying the taller man. I noticed that he had very dark eyebrows. He stuck out his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Morgan.” I shook the hand, picked up my files, and got up as fast as I could. When I got up, Agent Morgan looked at me funny, and I realized too late that he’d offered his hand to help me up.

“Nice to meet you too,” he tilted his head.

_I’ve only been here a few minutes. Get it together._

“Feel free to call me Reagan or Levine,” I tried to salvage my first impression, inching my way towards the glass doors.

“Everyone’s excited to meet you.” Morgan started following me into the BAU.

“That’s not stressful at all.” I looked at him blankly.

“You’ll be fine. Hotch told us about you.”

_Oh my god oh my goD OH MY GOD-_

“I hope I’m as great as he remembers.”

_That came out soooooooo wrong._

Morgan pushed open the glass doors for me. “If he told the truth, you will be.”

Somehow, that stressed me out even more. “Thanks,” I smiled at him as I walked through the doors to the BAU.

Morgan didn’t seem like he was worried about how I’d perform. In fact, he seemed like he wasn’t worried about my entrance to the unit at all, so I didn’t assume that he’d try profiling me like Hotch had in that basement. 

_I have to assume they want to work amiably._

When I entered, several people immediately looked up. One was a thin guy with long, wavy hair, a curious expression on his face. A woman with long dark hair looked me up and down from her seat at a desk, her elbows perched on her crossed legs. Another woman, blonde, stopped as she walked across the room, folders in her hands.

“Guys, this is Agent Levine,” Morgan loudly announced. I tried my hardest not to glare at him.

The wavy-haired nerd and the black haired girl got up to greet me, the blonde one rushing away and up the stairs to the above offices.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid,” The guy stuck his hands in his pockets, voice higher than I’d expected. “I’d shake your hand, but it’s safer to kiss.”

“You want to kiss?” My mind went blank.

“What? No, that’s not what I-”

“-It’s alright, Reid.” Morgan clapped him on the back.

“Agent Emily Prentiss,” The black-haired woman held her hand out. I shook it gratefully. 

“Levine,” I nodded at her, smiling. 

I didn’t get to say anything else, because one of the office doors from above opened, and out stepped the blonde and Aaron Hotchner.

“Reagan, will you see me in my office?” Hotch called down from his level and did this ‘come here’ thing with his hand. I stopped, staring at him for a moment. He waited for me to respond with a dark expression on his face. I couldn’t read it, and that bothered me.

_I can almost see a question mark above his head..._

“Right. Coming.” I shook myself out of my stupor and started making my way up the stairs towards him. Hotch raised his eyebrow but turned away, leading me into his office. I heard someone murmur “Reagan?” as I left, but I decided that it would be best to ignore it as I closed Hotch’s door behind myself.

Hotch walked behind his neat desk and sat, gesturing for me to do the same in the chair facing him. I did, handing my file over his desk as I did so.

“I'm sorry to call you in a day early, or this late in the day, but we have a new case. I have a few things to address before the team meets for the profile,” Hotch started, setting the file down, and I agreed.

“Alright. Shoot.”

“Would you prefer if I referred to you as ma’am in the field?”

_Weird question._

“No, it’s alright. That would be kind of weird, since you’re my supervisor for the year. Would you prefer _me_ to call you _sir?_ ”

“That would be uncomfortable.”

“Okay. Should we just call each other by our names?”

“That is probably the fairest compromise.” 

“Alright… Aaron.” Saying his name felt funny, but it seemed to be the only solution to the situation.

“Reagan,” Aaron nodded.

There was a long moment of silence as we stared at each other, uncomfortable.

“Okay. That’s going to sound weird. Can we just go with surnames?” I caved in.

“I agree, that was awkward.” Hotch seemed relieved.

“Nice. Hotch works a lot better.”

“Levine. The other agents will still refer to you as ma’am unless you tell them otherwise. As you would be a senior agent, would you prefer a secluded office or a desk downstairs with the team?”

 _Straight to the point. At least I think I made it clear for the others to call me Levine already._ “Whichever is easier.”

“Not good at making decisions?” One of his eyebrows quirked a little.

“Fine. I’ll take an office.” I glared at him a little. “Anything else?”

“Yes.” Hotch leaned forward onto his desk. “My first order for you is a result of consulting with Chief Noel. You are not to ever, ever take a bullet for anyone else on the team, and it has been recommended that I keep you out of the line of fire under all circumstances.”

“ _...What?_ ” I stood there, dumbfounded, as Aaron continued.

“I understand this might be hard for you, considering it is your job to take bullets for others, but while you are terming here at the BAU, I will not permit that kind of behavior-”

“-B _ehavior?_ ”

“-although I will not be restricting your role as a BAU agent, though it was advised. I believe that you deserve better than that.”

The office was once again plunged into a dark silence as we looked away from each other.

“Can I leave now?” I hurriedly asked, and Hotch nodded eagerly, gesturing to the door.

“Thanks.” I got a foot out that door as fast as I could without looking like I’d wanted to run out that door as fast as I could.

“Sorry, one more thing.”

I froze, waiting.

“Please refrain from calling me a bitch in front of the team.”

I choked on my own spit. I really did; I started coughing, unable to look Hotch in the eye.

“Are you alright?” Hotch stood at his desk, staring at me intensely. “Reagan?”

“Y-ye-” I coughed. “I-” cough. “I’ll be fine. Uh, I won’t. In front of the team.”

Hotch looked up at me from beneath his heavy eyebrows. I couldn’t tell if he was glaring at me or just staring as he paused before responding.

“...You can leave now,” He finally looked away, taking my file from off of his desk and tucking it somewhere else.

“Right. Uh, see you.” 

As I closed the door behind me, I turned and almost ran into the blonde, who was staring at me with big eyes.

“ _...Bitch?_ ” She looked at me, surprised. I realized too late that I’d held the door open for that part of the conversation.

“I may have called him a bitch a few times in the field,” I admitted as I shrugged. “The circumstances called for it.”

“What cir- okay. Okay,” She seemed to recalculate what she was going to say mid-sentence. “Did you want the office or the desk?”

“Office.”

“Right.” She nodded. “I’ll show you where that is now, if you like?”

“Sure.”

“I’m JJ. Do you want me to refer to you as ma’am?” she stuck out her hand, smiling a little. 

“Nice to meet you. Call me Levine, ma’am makes me feel old,” I shook her hand. 

“Nice to meet you too.” JJ started walking away, so I followed her around the top level, trying hard to ignore the profilers that were undoubtedly profiling me from below. We passed office by office until we reached one without a name plate. 

“This is you.” JJ nodded to the office.

“Thanks.” I looked into the dark room before opening the door and flicking the lights on. What met my eyes was neat and tidy, beautiful dark red wood paneling covering everything, but I knew that soon it would be a chaotic mess. I hadn’t asked for an office for any reason other than not bothering anyone else with my disorganization.

“You met Reid, Morgan and Prentice, right?” JJ spoke from behind me.

“Yeah.” I turned to face her again.

“Then you need to meet Garcia and Rossi. Rossi will probably find you when he gets here, but Garcia is in her office. Let’s swing by.” She started walking again without waiting for my reply.

“Okay.” I stared at her back for a second before following her, flicking the lights off and closing the door behind me. I couldn’t tell if she liked me or not. Even so, I liked that she was as forward as she was.

“Garcia would have met you at the doors, but we got a lot of files this morning that Hotch is having her go over right now, so I’m bringing you to her.”

“Sounds good. I won’t be bothering her?”

“Oh, no, she’s really excited to meet you.”

That, much like Morgan’s previous remarks, didn’t ease my anxiety.

We rounded a corner, and suddenly, JJ was facing me, stopped right around the bend. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to ask you this. Did you actually save Hotch’s life?” She folded her arms as she looked at me, but she looked impressed, not accusatory.

“What do you mean?” I didn’t remember doing any such thing.

“Hotch said that you took out an unsub before they shot him.”

“He could have shot him non-fatally.”

“You _did,_ ” JJ looked at me brightly, a small grin gracing her face. “Did you really do it after being shot three times?”

“Yeah?”

“We’ll get along.” And at that, JJ was turning down the hallway again. 

_What, was the jury out before?_

“Garcia’s in here, I’ll introduce you.” JJ gestured to a closed door before opening it. “Garcia, I’ve got Levine here.”

I looked into the room. It was full of screens, wall to wall, and smelled like Cup Noodles. A woman, decked head to toe in pink, spun around in a chair from the screens to face us, a feathered ball point pen in hand.

“Oh!” She stood up fast. “I’m Penelope Garcia. I’m the technical analyst of the team,” She smiled sweetly at me, and I held out a hand to shake. She shook it fast and vigorously.

“Reagan Levine. So you’d be the one to run a background check on me, huh?”

“Yep! Oh boy are you interesting,”Garcia grinned, perking up.

I laughed nervously, looking between Garcia and JJ. “Nothing too bad, I hope?”

“Define bad,” Garcia looked at me like she knew something I didn’t. That couldn’t mean anything good.

“Nice meeting you. I should let you get back to your work,” I started walking backwards. We were going to have a long chat later about what she meant by “define bad”.

“Right. I’ll get to know you later!” Garcia cheerfully sat back in her chair and turned back to her screens, lifting a large stack of files from her left to her right. “ JJ, I’ll have the next case ready in ten minutes.”

“Thanks, Garcia.” JJ turned to leave before I did, so I followed her out, closing a door behind me again for the fourth time that day.

“I’m guessing you’ll want to get situated in your office first, so I’ll leave you to that.” JJ walked me back to my new space. “If you have any questions, feel free to ask anyone, especially me. I’ll be in with Hotch.”

“Thanks, JJ.” I opened the door to my office, letting the door close behind me as I once again flicked the lights on. When JJ was gone, I let out a long breath, sliding down the length of my door. I debated whether to run outside and pick up smoking again right then and there.

“Oh boy.” I looked around my office, sagging my weight against the cool wood behind me. “I’m going to trash this place, aren’t I.”

The office didn’t respond, so I picked myself off the door and walked over to the dark wood desk, stepping around it and sitting in my new seat. There was an empty plaque on it, accompanied by a pencil cup full of unsharpened pencils and a small stack of printer paper. I looked around, finding a printer in the back corner of the office. An empty bookshelf lined the back wall. 

“I’m gonna have to fill up all this space.” I glanced at the large-leafed plant by the windows. “Yeah, you’re not gonna cut it alone, buddy.” The plant was going to get some friends. 

I made the awful decision to look out the windows from where I sat. Down below the offices, Prentiss and Morgan stood around Reid’s desk, animatedly discussing something. I had a feeling that my name might’ve been mentioned once or twice. As I watched, I analyzed their faces, looking for anything giving away disappointment or dissatisfaction in any way. I didn’t get any of that. Instead, Prentiss looked excited, Morgan smiled, and Reid was speaking fast with a hopeful look on his face. That gave me some hope as to how I was going to be accepted by the group.

It only took another minute for one of them to come up. Surprisingly, it was Reid; he wandered up like a giraffe who didn’t know how to walk right, staggering his way up the short stairs to my door. I watched him come up through my windows.

“Ma’am?” he knocked on my door. “Can I come in?”

“Go ahead.” I sat up in my chair as Reid sauntered in awkwardly, closing the wooden door closely behind him like he was sneaking around.

“I was elected to talk to you,” he began, and I tried not to laugh at how nervous he looked. It eased my own anxiety by a lot.

“I’m guessing for a profile. What do you want to know?” I rested my elbows on the desk. When he didn’t respond immediately, I pointed to the stack of three chairs in the corner of the room. “Feel free to drag a chair over wherever you want. Don’t feel too awkward standing.”

Reid seemed to relax, and followed my directions, walking over to the corner and grabbing a chair off the stack, sitting it in front of the desk.

“So. What do you want to know?” I tried again.

“You’re young.”

“Yeah. And I act even younger,” I huffed, still trying not to laugh. 

“You’re younger than Hotch and Prentiss, but you have a higher pay grade,” Reid observed. 

“And you’re young to be a doctor.” 

“Yes. Why are you young?” Reid didn’t miss a beat.

“Direct. I like it.” I leaned back in my seat. “I’ve taken a lot of high-risk missions that require a higher disclosure level, so to speak. That, and my experience speaks for itself. I’m guessing you haven’t seen the file Hotch has on me?”

“I haven’t.”

“I have a lot of experience, and when I say a lot of experience, I mean more than the other agents in this unit.”

“Even Hotch and Rossi?”

“Hotch, yes. Rossi? I’m not sure, I haven’t seen his file.” I grabbed a pencil from the pencil jar and started fiddling with it. “Rossi might have more experience by number of missions, but I’d argue that the intensity and level of my missions might outrank him. Hence, the pay grade.”

“Tell me a little about yourself.” Reid folded his hands together.

“I… like to cook?” The question caught me off-guard, and I faltered in my answer, examining his face for a reason for the change in topic.

“Really?” Reid leaned back by a centimeter.

“Yeah, even got a job as a chef in high school until college.”

“You and Rossi will get along.” Reid looked like he’d achieved something. I let him enjoy the moment, continuing to fiddle with the pencil in my hand.

“If Rossi’s got a good sense of humor, then we definitely will,” I eventually let on.

“He does.” Reid didn’t elaborate.

“Good to know,” I looked at him funny. Reid seemed to be looking at me to continue the conversation. “Rossi likes to cook?”

“He’s Italian,” Reid told me, like that explained everything. 

“Oh.” I nodded slowly. “That makes… sense.” It kind of didn’t.

“We have a few minutes until Garcia comes out with the initial case,” Reid told me. 

“Why are you young, doctor?” I figured it was my turn.

“I have eidetic memory and got my Phds before twenty-one.”

“That’s useful. Phds, plural?” 

“Yes. I have three, I got my first at seventeen,” Reid stared at me intensely.

“That’s a lot more impressive than my own credentials, I’m afraid. I’ve only got two master’s.” 

“One in psychology?”

“Yes. You won’t find the degrees in my files; they only hold information from my disclosable service within my unit at the Pentagon.” The conversation was more fast-paced than to my usual taste, but I kept up with Reid’s beats. I hoped he would find the hidden statement. This was his chance to ask with no one else watching.

“What is the other master’s?”

“Counter-Terrorism and Homeland Security.” I gauged his reaction. He seemed a little surprised, but not miffed. The masters were both fairly relative to a job at the BAU. Even so, Reid had probably expected Criminal Justice to be my second master’s, a more common choice among agents in the FBI. 

“...What were your bachelors? I’m assuming you had several.” Reid took a while to speak.

“You’re right. I had three; History, Psychology and Criminal Justice,” I numbered them off with my hands.

“How did you go from Criminal Justice to Counter-Terrorism?”

“While it’s a secret right now, I’m sure you’ll find out.”

Reid was interrupted before his next question with a notification from his cell. He glanced down quickly, then back at me expectantly.

“Garcia is ready?” I questioned, placing the unsharpened pencil on the desk and folding my arms. 

_Crossed arms means closed off. An end._

Reid noticed the hidden message, looking between myself, the pencil and where I hoped he was looking at my arms. “Yes ma’am.” Reid’s face stiffened a bit. 

“Let’s go, then.”

Reid hurried up. “Was that my only chance?”

_Smart kid._

“It won’t be the last, and don’t call me ma’am. Levine will do.” 

Reid started at me as I got up and moved around the desk, adjusting my blazer accordingly.

“I didn’t want to kiss you.” 

“I know. I just wanted to tease you.” I winked at him as I passed, opening the door to the office open for him. Reid hesitated, then reluctantly went out the door in front of me, refusing to look behind him. I followed him out as we made our way around the risen offices to what I presumed was the conference room.

Suddenly, Reid spun around, a finger in the air.

“You specialized in something outside of college.” He looked like a kid who’d just been given a surprise ice cream bar.

“Good job, but not meant for outside of an unbugged office. If you want the truth.”

Reid looked a little confused, like he knew that he was still missing something large, but he turned around anyways, heading back in the direction of the conference room.

When he passed into the open conference, I paused, gathering myself. I wasn’t used to group situations. The only circumstances under which I’d ever had to perform with a group were against a group, and usually that circumstance involved me either dealing with a group of unsubs or being judged by them in a court setting. I hadn’t run with a group since before college.

_Just act confident, if nothing else._

I squared my shoulders, and walked into the conference room, just a second behind Reid.


	2. How Do I Give A First Impression if We've Already Met?

_Three Days Before Levine's Arrival_

“I’m only going to say this once. No profiling Levine. I’ve already profiled her, and her previous line of work is security sensitive. I would also like to inform all of you that her word overrides all of yours, and mine, but under the circumstances of her transfer, she will only defer to me. I understand this is unusual.” Hotch took a breath. “Regardless, there will be no questioning this or her qualifications. Are we clear?”

There was a smattering of ‘yes sir’s with a few ‘yeah’s.

“Are there any questions?” Hotch held the edges of the conference table, looking at everyone.

“Why is she transferring to us just until the end of the year?” Reid’s brow was furrowed.

“Why is she transferring at all?” Prentiss leaned back in her chair.

“Her unit has an injury stipulation, and she’s met that yearly quota already.” It was probably the nicest way Hotch could’ve said it. “Her unit Chief, Brooke Noel, as I’m sure you all remember, personally asked her to be transferred because she likes to stay in the field.” 

The room was quiet for a few moments before Rossi spoke up. “Is there anything else we should know about her?”

“It is my understanding that she hasn’t worked with a team while in the field often. We might have to give her a warming up period,” Hotch answered, “but other than that, nothing else comes to mind. Any other questions?”

“Is she good?” JJ looked up from the files she was deliberating.

Hotch nodded, resolved. “Very. If there are no more questions, you all can leave. I know the case today was hard. Get some rest.” He started collecting and stacking the files from that day’s case from off of the conference table, not looking up when the agents passed him for the door.

As the agents in the room began to stand and start drifting off, Garcia snuck up to Hotch’s side visibly nervous. Hotch noted in the back of his mind that Garcia waited for the others to leave the room before speaking.

“Hotch, I know that you said no profiling, but you haven’t asked me to do a background check on her. Do you not want-”

“-No background checks this time, Garcia. I know you can keep secrets, but this is especially sensitive, alright?” Hotch stood up to face her. “We don’t want the Department of Defense coming after us if you hack their systems.”

“...Are you sure?”

“Very.”

“Okay.” Garcia stood there a few more moments, watching Hotch as he turned back to the case files. Garcia wasn’t a profiler, but as she watched Hotch’s unusually fast hands and shifting eyes, even she could tell there was something different about this transferee, and it wasn’t just about how unorthodox the transfer was.

“...Sir? Is there something wrong?”

“What?” Hotch’s voice didn’t let anything slip, but his eyebrows rose just a little, and Garcia knew that he was on edge.

“What are you not saying about the transfer? Should I be worried?”

“There’s nothing for you to worry about, Garcia.” Even as Hotch said those words, he seemed more high strung, like now he had more things to worry about.

“You’re a little jumpy. Sir.”

“Garcia,” Hotch looked at her sternly, clearly wanting the conversation to be over.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I appreciate it, but your concern isn’t necessary. Not for this.”

“So there _is_ something.”

“ _Garcia._ Please, drop it.”

Garcia didn’t move, standing stubbornly next to Hotch as he stared down at her. When Hotch glared at her, she glared back defiantly, folding her arms. Hotch recognized the look in Garcia’s eyes and looked away, leaning down to grip the edge of the conference table. 

“Is there something that we need to be worried about, or did something happen when you got shot?”

Hotch let his head drop. He knew that when Garcia said “we”, she meant the team. Out of everyone on the team, he hadn’t expected Garcia to corner him like this, and especially not about the new transfer.

“It wasn’t a comfortable few hours together,” He finally admitted, letting out a long sigh and looking down at the files still on the conference table. 

Garcia sensed that there was something off. She’d expected news that the new transfer would cause problems, but there was something about the way that Hotch phrased things that led her to believe there was something else up.

“And?” She looked at him expectantly.

“We got to know each other very well, but as I mentioned, we were under strained circumstances. I don’t want that mission to undermine how we perform together.” Hotch chose his words carefully and slowly.

Garcia froze. “Oh my god.” She dropped her arms. “And here I was, worried we were going to be getting a psychopath transfer or something,” she snickered, looking down at him through her glasses.

Hotch glared up at her from behind his shoulder, but it was a confused glare, like a puppy unhappy with how he was missing out on something. He still somehow had the dignity not to respond.

“Come on, Hotch, you’ve got to know,” Garcia grinned. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hotch stood up abruptly and turned back to the files, picking them up faster and stepping away from the table.

Garcia pouted. “Hotch,” she whined, following him out of the conference room as he made his escape.

“We are not having a discussion about this. Agent Levine is not a threat to the unit, and she will perform well. We will not have any problems.” Hotch rushed down the raised portion of the BAU, heading for his office.

“Hotch!” Garcia tried to run after him, only to meet a slam from down the hallway. She walked along some of the guardrail awkwardly, stopping at the unit chief’s door.

Garcia gazed at the closed office door, a funny look on her face. Slowly, she nodded, determined.

“I’m going to do that background check.”


	3. The '69

While sitting around a conference table with a team was unfamiliar, I found it comfortable. I didn’t get the feeling that any of the agents surrounding me were unhappy with my presence. 

At least, when Hotch wasn’t looking across the table with his thousand-yard stare.

I figured he was always like that unless he was active in the field, so I ignored it, choosing instead to listen to the others as they gossiped.

“I wonder why Rossi’s late,” Morgan swiveled around in his seat absentmindedly.

“He probably got himself _busy,_ ” Prentiss wiggled her eyes at Morgan from across the table. I could feel JJ smile from behind me as she stood by the large tv screen. Garcia dejectedly looked at her coffee mug, her chin on her palm. I could tell that she’d been out having fun before we’d been called in for this case. She hadn’t looked this dejected earlier, though; she’d been happy to see me, but the case files on the table before us seemed to bring her mood down.

My thoughts were interrupted as a man staggered through the door, bow tie undone and shirt unbuttoned. He’d clearly been relaxing from a setting much more formal than this one.

“WOOOAAh,” Prentiss haggled the approaching figure, smirking. 

“Sorry to ruin your night.” I caught Hotch smile a little as he looked away from Agent Rossi. 

Morgan swiveled around, a shit-eating grin gracing his face. “What are you working on, wife number four?” He snickered, flicking the pen in his hand at Rossi’s appearance. 

Rossi raised an eyebrow. “I see you people _way_ too much,” he sat in his chair roughly. Then, he saw me. “Oh, you must be Agent Levine?”

“Pleasure to meet you. You must be Agent Rossi?”

“I am.”

Before I could get up to shake his hand, Hotch was speaking.

“Let’s get started.”

JJ immediately shot into the case description, and I turned to face the large screen. 

“Alright. Anchorage Field Office is asking us to investigate a series of murders in Franklin, Alaska.” JJ fiddled with the tv remote as she spoke. “There’s three people dead in less than a week.”

“For a town with a population of 1,476, that’s fairly significant,” Reid pointed out.

“It’s their first murder investigation on record.” JJ glanced around the table.

Rossi’s brow furrowed. “Who are the victims?”

“Uh, John Baker, a hunter, Dedaimia Swanson, a school teacher, Brenda Bright, the first mate on a fishing boat.” JJ went between the screen and the table as she spoke, clicking away with her remote. “There’s a new victim every two days.” She faced the table.

The agents started pinging off of each other. I was worried I would ruin their flow if I spoke, so I watched for an opening rather than share my initial opinion of the unsub.

“Any connections?”

“Unfortunately, in a town this small, everyone’s connected.”

“Different kill methods. It says the first two victims were both shot with a rifle, but Brenda Bright was stabbed twice with an arrow?”

“Are we sure it’s the same guy?”

“All three victims were found in heavily trafficked areas. The unsub wants them found sooner or later.”

I found an opening.

“It could be more than one unsub. While it’s statistically unlikely for there to be multiple murderers due to a small population, the multiple methods and tightly knit community suggest that there may be several perpetrators, or at least an initial perpetrator and facilitators. It’s unlikely that the murders are going unnoticed by those around the perpetrator.” I glanced over my files as I spoke, trying to avoid eye contact. “Even so, due to the transition of methods between kills and disposals, IE the first two were with the same kill method and the last two being the same disposal method, it’s likely that the murderer is one person. The methods might suggest either an escalation or de-escalation.”

“Good point,” Morgan nodded at me.

“Good several points,” Garcia added.

“John Baker’s body was left exposed to the elements, but the two women were buried under mounds of trash. Why?”

“It could be a sign of remorse; cover their bodies, so he doesn’t have to face the reality of what he’s done.” 

“Or, he thinks that women are trash, and he’s just placed them where he thinks they belong.”

“Well, we can’t be sure of anything yet. Franklin is an isolated fishing community that’s been hit really hard by the current economy. Add to that a series of unsolved murders, and everyone’s on edge.”

“The local sheriff’s out of his depth, and Alaska hasn’t handled a serial investigation since Robert Hanson in the eighties. We’ll fly out tonight, everybody can sleep on the plane,” Hotch finalized. “Garcia, I need you with us.”

Garcia froze, eyes wide. “Sir?”

“I’ve tasked the satellite uplink, and it’s your job to keep us connected.” 

_So. We won’t have reception._

“Yes, sir.” 

I noted how Garcia looked immediately to Morgan. There was something there that I was missing.

“This town’s already on the brink, and if this pattern continues, we’ve only got another day until the next murder. Let’s finish this fast.” Hotch scooted his chair from the table, standing up quickly. Everyone followed suit, grabbing their files hurriedly, packing up and shuffling out of the conference room.

The jet was awesome. I’d been on a government jet before, but not often, and not with a team. It hadn’t been in my job description. 

The plane was surprisingly spacious, with a main compartment and smaller, separate conjoined compartments on either end of what I guessed was the team’s meeting space. I chose to sleep in the larger space with Prentiss, JJ, Reid, Rossi and Hotch, while Garcia and Morgan got the smaller compartments to themselves. It looked like they rotated the compartments and seats. I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to get to know the team better, so I assigned myself to a seat in the main cabin. The first week would be what defined the rest of the year together; if I couldn’t pull off creating good relationships with them all, then it would be a rocky eight months.

Reid took the contraption on the side of the plane that usually served as some sort of couch. Based on his familiarity with the thing, I guessed that it was his usual assignment. Hotch and Rossi took lone seats close together, while Prentiss and I together got the four seats in the center of the jet. JJ took a seat opposite Rossi on the same side as Reid. There were at least nine seats in total, but I didn’t know how to count the couch.

When morning came, Garcia and Morgan filtered in, and everyone seemed to coagulate around the four seats where Prentiss and I had slept.

Prentiss immediately refused to move after waking. It was amusing to watch. Rossi took her left, stepping over her long legs. When I woke up, JJ was already at my right, looking over the files for the day. It surprised me; I was a light sleeper, but somehow I woke up second to JJ. The only thing that alerted me to her presence was the rustling of the files. Hotch and Rossi woke next. Rossi woke Reid, then Reid was tasked with waking Prentiss. Apparently Prentiss did not like to be woken up. When Garcia and Morgan heard everyone start moving around in the main cabin, they made their way from their compartments to join us.

What surprised me the most was that everyone ditched their professional clothes; everyone seemed to be a poster for Columbia Sportswear, even Garcia. When I noticed the trend, I left to put on some jeans.

When I came back, Hotch was teetering precariously on something that came out the side of the plane next to where Reid slept. I couldn't tell if it was a desk or a table. Reid sat on the couch, Garcia perched on the opposite couch arm, and Morgan peeked over from behind JJ’s seat. 

I sat down again, then took a moment to look at my files as everyone gathered their thoughts. 

“I think there’s a strong element of disorganization here. The attacks have been timely, but the methods are messed up, which suggests that this unsub hasn’t started de escalating yet.” I gestured to my files.

Prentiss looked up from her own papers. “I agree. This guy’s all over the map. He crosses sex and race boundaries, he changed his kill method? It says to me he’s disorganized.”

“The disorganization and fast repetition of his attacks means he could de escalate soon, so he’s dangerous right now,” JJ added.

“There weren’t prints at any of the crime scenes and he isolated his victims,” Rossi countered.

“Wearing gloves and making sure there aren’t any witnesses? That’s a no brainer, but this evolution absolutely suggests escalation.” Morgan gestured with his hands as his elbows rested on JJ’s seat.

“Evolution?” JJ looked up at him.

“He started with easy prey. John baker was in his mid sixties; it’s relatively low risk for a first-timer. Dedaimia Swanson was in her early fifties. She wouldn’t be that difficult to overpower,” Morgan elaborated.

“But he didn’t have to overpower either one of them, both victims were shot,” Reid surmised. 

“Which is my point exactly. He killed them both from a safe distance, but Brenda Bright was younger, more athletic. She would’ve been able to put up much more of a fight, so why not shoot her, too?”

Hotch folded his arms. “That supports the disorganized theory.” 

“Maybe he didn’t get what he wanted from his first two victims.” Rossi shuffled in his seat.

_Rossi. Ever the Devil’s advocate. Useful for developing an air-tight unsub profile._

“Brenda Bright was an attractive woman,” Rossi continued. “He used an arrow, but he didn’t shoot her with it. He stabbed her.” He raised his eyebrows. “I think we all know what that means.”

“When we land in Anchorage, there’ll be a float plane to take us to Franklin. When we get there, Morgan, Levine, and Prentiss, work the crime scene. We need to know exactly how he ambushed his victims. Reid and Rossi, the bodies. Find out what you can there. JJ and I will work victimology and Garcia, town records. Find us something we can use.”

“Of course, sir. I should let everybody know that reception in the area is unreliable at best. I’m giving everybody satellite phones for communication, and I’ve already preprogrammed all your digits into speed dial. Guess who’s lucky number seven?” Garcia grinned at everyone. 

We just stared back at her.

The floatplane was tight and unremarkable, but the view was fantastic. I’d been lucky enough to snatch a window seat on the flight into Franklin. 

Massive mountains ran in lines throughout the state like rivers. The contrast between the peaks and the valleys was insane, with miles and miles between the feet of glaciers to the next mountain range. The mountains themselves stood steeply, hundreds of feet up. I would have thought it was northern Utah if not for the blue glaciers and beautiful evergreen forests. 

We hit the ground, or water, running. It was the first time I’d been on a floatplane landing on water. Conveniently, we landed on the dock were Brenda Bright had worked. When I thought about it, I realized that it was probably the only dock in town, and that there wasn’t another way in or out.

Morgan, Prentiss and I separated from the group as everyone else dragged their gear up the pier. I shouldered my duffle bag as I walked behind Morgan, wondering how I should approach working with two people. I’d never looked at the result of a crime scene before. I was usually in it.

“Welcome to Franklin. I’m Deputy Flack,” a woman in a sheriff’s uniform approached us, hands in her jacket. 

“Are these the docks where Brenda Bright was working the night she was killed?” Morgan thankfully took the lead.

“Yes.” The cowboy hat on the deputy’s head dipped.

“Alright. We’ll get started here.” Morgan started down the dock, the rest of us following.

Deputy Flack caught up to him. “I’ve got a place you can set your bags while we walk the docks,” she offered, and Morgan nodded.

“That would be great.” I couldn’t tell what he was thinking behind his dorky sunglasses. 

The deputy led us off of the pier to an old blue Ford parked behind a fisherman’s warehouse. “In here they’ll be fine,” she unlocked the car, throwing the back open. 

“Is this a ‘68 ?” I asked her, appreciating the state of the vehicle as Morgan and Prentiss threw their bags in.

“‘69 Fairlane. Close,” She smiled at me

“Right. I got the headlights wrong.” I grinned back, throwing my duffle in with the others. 

Deputy Flack whistled, eyeing me appreciatively. “Yeah, a ‘68’s got bigger lights.” She closed the back once I’d gotten out of the way.

“How do you get parts for a car like this in Franklin?” I asked her, sticking my hands in my pockets.

“Floatplane,” the deputy started walking away from the car, locking it behind her.

“It’s pretty isolated here. Is that how you get all of your supplies?” Morgan started walking side-by-side with the deputy, Prentiss and I falling in behind.

“Yep. Floatplane is how we get groceries and supplies. Once in a while we get a fisherman’s boat from a few towns over, but we have all our own fisher boats here for a meat supply. Our own hunters can get anything other than fish.” 

We stepped back onto the pier and started walking back down the docks. When we passed the warehouse again, the smell of fish hit me, and I realized that I’d been lucky I hadn’t smelled it before. 

As we walked past boat after boat on the pier, we passed a man rushing down the docks with a tan duffle bag. When he saw us he stopped, squinting his eyes at us as we passed. We stopped, looking at him.

“Hey. I’m Craig Ramey, you all the FBI?”

“What gave us away?” Prentiss raised her eyebrows.

Morgan looked down at his duffle. “You’re packing an awful lot of stuff for a fishing trip,” he observed, eyeing the man up and down.

“I’m not going fishing. Getting the hell out of dodge before it’s me or my wife put in the ground,” Ramey nodded his ratty baseball cap over the pier, presumably towards his boat.

“Did you know Brenda well?” Prentiss squared at my side, and Ramey looked saddened.

“Everyone did. She was sweet,” he drooped. “She’d pull a haul just as good as any guy on these docks.” He looked down at Deputy Flack, more resolute. “As soon as I get my house boarded up, I’m headin’ out. I suggest you do the same, Susan.” He looked at all of us awkwardly. “Excuse me.” Ramey pushed his way past Prentiss and I, hefting his duffle. 

“I can’t say that I blame him.” Deputy Flack shook her head, looking back at us. “With what’s been going on, I’m surprised that more people aren’t trying to leave.” She started down the boardwalk again, the rest of us following. Morgan took her shoulder again.

Flack led us to a boat, then pointed down. “This is Keith Graves,” she said quietly. “He was with Brenda the night she died.”

The man in the boat stared up at us as we approached, looping a large rope in his hands as he watched us. We all walked up to the edge of the dock and looked down at him.

“Mr. Graves, did you notice anything out of the ordinary the night of the murder?”

Graves started shaking his head before Morgan finished. “No,” he continued to loop the rope, “I offered to wait for her, but she insisted I head up to town without her.”

“What were you two doing that night?” Prentiss tilted her head slightly.

“We finished for the day. I left.” Graves stopped looping the rope, sighing as he continued. “She stuck around to clean the fish that she wanted to take home.”

“She usually walked home alone,” I guessed.

“Yeah. Brenda said that walking was good for the soul,” Graves smiled sadly.

Morgan looked into the distance, then honed in on Graves again. “How far is it into town?”

“About half a mile?” Graves shrugged. 

“The unsub could have waited for her anywhere,” Prentiss looked at Morgan. 

“Let’s head to the crime scene. That area will narrow down where he was hiding.” Morgan nodded at Deputy Flack, who started moving again.

“I’ll walk you over,” she called back as we followed her, “but I’ll warn you now, there’s not much to see.”

“Sometimes what isn’t there is just as important as what is,” I shrugged, pulling my hands out of my pockets.

“What can you tell us about the crime scene before the body was removed?” Morgan caught up with Flack once more.

“There was more blood there than there is now. It’s all dirt there, like most of the roads here.” The deputy gestured around as we started stepping off of the docks again. “Because we’ve had a dry spell, there’s no mud or anything to catch prints. The location is behind one of the local businesses; Brenda’s body was dragged there from where she was attacked, and we think she was dead before she was moved by a trash pile. I’ll start you from the attack site and lead you to where she was dumped.”

We walked for only a few minutes before the deputy stopped at the corner of a building, taped off with neon orange tape. I noticed that there was a large section of unearthed dirt.

“This is the kill site.” The deputy pointed at the unearthed dirt, then started drawing a line with her hand. “Along here is where she was dragged. I’ll walk you down.”

As we moved under the tape, I looked at Prentiss. “He hid around the building waiting for her. He knew when and where she left the docks.” I froze. “Wait. Grave said she was taking fish home. Where are the fish?” 

“Deputy!” Prentiss called out to Flack, who was leading Morgan down the trail. “Deputy, where are the fish she was taking home? Was anything of hers found anywhere else?”

“Her ice box was found further from where we came,” Deputy Flack called back, and Morgan’s eyebrows scrunched.

“She dropped it,” I made eye contact with him, and Morgan nodded. 

“But why?” He looked back at the trail. 

“She was killed where she met the unsub, but something made her drop the box,” Prentiss started walking down the trail again. 

“She probably knew the unsub. It’s unlikely that she didn’t anyway, though,” I glared down at the dirt. “But why did she drop the box?”

“Maybe she didn’t see the unsub immediately, like you said. He was probably hiding here,” Prentiss looked back at the kill site. “Maybe he made a sound?”

Morgan stopped for a moment, thinking. I took the time to catch up. 

“The arrow, the stalking, and the lying in wait suggest a hunter.” Morgan looked up. “It’s likely he called out or made some noise to draw her towards him.”

“He hunted her,” I nodded. 

“There’s a lot of hunters here,” Deputy Flack started down the drag trail again, which led us to a trash yard. “Everyone grows up knowing how to hunt.” She stopped at a larger patch of unearthed ground. “Here’s where he dumped her.”

I noticed a suspicious lack of blood for a stabbing. “If it’s dry dirt, how do we know he dragged her from the kill site?” I looked at the deputy.

“Oh, there was a trail of blood here. We covered it up.”

“You contaminated the scene?” Prentiss looked scandalized, but the deputy had a good reason.

“We had to. We’ve got a rabid bear in the woods that’s been ripping smaller game to shreds,” Flack defended. “A creature like that? He’ll come into town, no hesitation.”

“Even if there wasn’t one, it’s likely other animals would check it out. A town like this with a fresh source of food,” I pointed at the fishing boats, “would get a lot of unwanted attention from carnivores. I know Anchorage still gets bear attacks. They’re a lot more paved and populated than Franklin.”

“You said the other two victims were found similar to this?” Prentiss looked at Flack again.

“John was found on the edge of the woods. Dedaimia was up by Crest Falls.” The deputy gestured with each phrase. “It’s a popular hiking route.” 

Prentiss looked around. “Who would know their routines?”

“Everyone,” Flack stated. I could tell that she was frustrated that she couldn't be of more help.

“We should head back, meet up with the rest of the team.” Morgan took a last look at the crime scene.

“I’ll be driving you all back in my Ford.” Deputy Flack took out her keys, jangling them.

“Nice,” I grinned at her, and she smiled back.

“Just for that, you can get shotgun.”

“Yes!” I shook a fist. Morgan and Prentiss raised their eyebrows at me, but I ignored them. I got to ride shotgun in a cool car. Their opinion of me didn’t matter.

The drive to wherever we were going was great. Flack’s car had the old bench seats with no dividers, and they were an impressive blue leather. Everything inside and out seemed to be in top shape, not to mention in original shape, and everything was in the same shade of blue. I especially liked the crank windows.

“Do you work on it yourself?” I asked the deputy as she drove, and she nodded, proud.

“I do indeed.” 

“That’s awesome.” I leaned back on the bench seat, enjoying the wind flying through the open window. “How do you find parts? Online?”

“Yeah, if there’s something harder to get. I’d go down to Anchorage every once in a while to see if they had anything when I was rebuilding it.”

“Wow. That’s dedication.” I stuck my hand out the window, feeling the air go by as we drove into town. “Is it just me, or is the air fresher here?” I turned back to look at the other two agents.

“Yeah. It’s pretty open here, and there’s a lot less pollution,” Prentiss un-crossed her arms.

“I guess.” Morgan was staring out his own window. I got the feeling he was apprehensive about the town, so I ignored it.

“This is the cleanest air in the U.S., so enjoy it while you're here,” Deputy Flack called to the back. 

Prentiss smiled. “We will.”

It was quiet in the car for a few minutes, and I turned my attention to the case. There was something about it that was bothering me. When I figured it out, I turned back to the other two agents.

“There’s gotta be a connection between the victims other than living in the same town. Even though this guy is disorganized, he picked them out, waited for them. I think there might be a grudge or event involving the unsub and the victims, and it might help us figure out who might target next.”

“You're right,” Morgan perked, sitting up straighter. “Deputy, can you think of anything else that might connect the victims? Were they all involved in an accident, or event?”

“Not that I can think of. All three of ‘em were good people; didn’t get into trouble, didn’t have trouble come to them.”

“There’s something we’re missing. If it’s not an event, it could be an ideology, or something similar.” Prentiss grabbed her bag and started digging for her files.

“Were they planning on doing something?” I thought into the air.

“Oh my god,” Flack suddenly tensed.

“Was I right?” I looked at her.

“Yeah. All three of them were planning on leaving town.”

I stared back at Morgan. “The guy from the pier was skipping town.”

“Ramey.” Morgan nodded. “He’s going to be a target.”

“If he isn’t already. It’s getting darker outside. Deputy, how long until we get to where we’re meeting up with everyone else?”

“Another five minutes.”

“Can you make it three?”

“Sure can.” The deputy switched gears, stepping on the gas.


	4. Out Of Our Hands

Ramey wasn’t carrying his phone. At least, as far as we knew. When we gathered at the lodge we would be staying at, Garcia made attempt after attempt to contact him from a couch by the main fireplace, each ring going to an answering machine. We all stood around her expectantly as we waited for him to pick up.

“ _Fuck,_ ” I muttered to myself. We didn't know the area and we didn’t know how to find him. I didn’t think anyone had heard me, but Morgan glared at me from where he stood, arms crossed.

_Uptight._ I tried not to roll my eyes, focusing instead on Garcia. 

“He-he’s not picking up,” Garcia was growing more and more distressed with each call, and when Garcia was in distress, everyone was on edge.

Hotch looked to the deputy and sheriff, who stood a few feet away, even more worried than Garcia was getting. “Sheriff, can you have your department keep patching calls to Ramey? We need to start building our profile.”

“On it,” the sheriff nodded, leading the deputy out of the room and into the night.

Everyone started to settle into the room. Hotch took an armchair by the fireplace, Reid across from him. JJ sat next to the overwhelmed Garcia. Morgan leaned against Garcia’s couch from behind, arms locked straight. I sat on the fireplace brick. It was hot.

“Garcia, did anything come up when you went through the department’s records?” Hotch leaned forward in his seat.

“Nothing that stands out. Everyone’s been involved in something.” 

Rossi walked over to the fireplace, grabbing a poker to stoke the fire. “He’s already experimenting with his victims. He violated Brenda Bright with an arrow.”

“And he’s inciting panic. People who have lived here most of their lives are packing up to leave,” Morgan looked at me from over Garcia. 

“I think that may not be the effect he was going for.” I crossed my arms in response. “The people he’s attacked were leaving already. He may be trying to instil fear of leaving, not a fear of staying.”

“We know what that means,” Rossi looked down at me. I nodded.

“Yep. Abandonment issues.” I let my back touch the hot brick behind me.

Hotch grabbed his coffee mug. “There may be an event related to that. Garcia, can you look into events related to abandonment?” 

“I’ve run everyone who’s been printed through codis. Nothing’s come up so far. I’m gonna pull an all-nighter, finish going through some of the town records. Should have background checks by sunrise.” 

A woman started approaching from behind the sofa with a coffee pot.

“Good. I’ll call the sheriff to recommend a curfew. The rest of us should get some sleep, start fresh in the morning.” Hotch started getting up. Everyone followed suit, gathering files or coffee. 

“I’ve got four upstairs rooms available?” The woman looked between the eight of us.

“Uh, four?” Reid awkwardly looked up at her.

“That’s the best we could do. Small town,” the woman shrugged, coffee sloshing around in the clear pot. “You guys are twice as big as our sheriff’s department.” When she noticed none of us would be wanting any more coffee, she started leaving the room.

“That’s fine. Looks like we’ll have to double up,” Hotch looked down at everyone seriously.

_Four girls, four guys. That works out well._

“I’m not sleeping with Reid.” Morgan gestured in Reid’s general area, and Reid looked genuinely affronted.

Garcia grabbed Morgan’s arm. “Dibs,” she smiled up at him.

_Okay. Forget the four girls._

I looked around. JJ and Prentiss were already heading up the lodge stairs together.

_Oh no._

I tried my hardest not to make eye contact with anyone. 

Rossi walked over to where Reid sat dejectedly. “Don’t worry, Reid. I’ll room with you,” he smiled at him. 

_Oh fuck._

That left me with Hotch. I pointedly didn’t look at him, choosing instead to glare at Garcia. It was her fault that this was happening. Luckily, she didn’t notice, focusing on her coffee and her screens.

“Levine, are you fine with rooming with me?” Hotch’s voice interrupted my death glare.

“Yeah, no problem.” I finally looked at him. “I should warn you, though. I’m a light sleeper.”

If Garcia noticed my predicament, she didn’t let it show, instead focusing even harder on her screens. 

I grabbed my duffle from the three left by the stairs, making my way up. Hotch tentatively followed. 

Did I have a problem with sleeping with Hotch? Absolutely not. Did I have a problem with how awkward he might make it? Absolutely.

“Levine, I need to speak with Rossi about something, so I’ll come in later,” Hotch suddenly stopped at the top of the stairs behind me before dropping his bag.

“Uh, okay.” I moved over down the hallway to let Hotch pass, watching as he got to Reid and Rossi’s door before turning in the other direction to the last room with an open door. When I reached it, I paused, looking down the hallway at Hotch. He had a hand to Rossi’s door, like he was waiting for me to leave first.

_Yeah, I don’t want to think about whatever the hell that could be right now._

I closed the door quietly behind me as I entered the room.

It wasn’t as small as I thought it would be; there was a short couch, an armchair, and a queen sized bed, along with a kitchenette. A door, leading to what I assumed was the bathroom, stood across from the bed and next to an old tv. I could tell that the windows slid open to a small balcony. It was a lot more than I’d been expecting, and I immediately dropped my stuff by the couch. There was no way in hell I’d let Hotch take the couch with his long legs.

Hotch didn’t want to knock. He wanted to do anything but knock, anything but go into his room.

He didn’t have to knock. Reid opened the door, starting out, and ran directly into him.

“Hotch?” Reid blinked up, and Hotch took a step back.

“Is Rossi available?” 

“Yeah, he’s just,” Reid gestured through the door. “Is everything alright?” 

“Yes. Yes, everything’s fine. I just need to speak with him about something.”

“Hotch?” Rossi appeared at the door, bathrobe in hand and a concerned look on his face.

“Rossi. Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure.” Rossi’s light reply didn’t alleviate the frown on his face, but he ushered Reid back into the room, closing the door behind him. “What is this about?”

“I’m sharing a room with Levine.”

“...Okay? Why is that an issue?”

“Can we take this downstairs, preferably out of everyone’s ears?”

“Of course.” Rossi wrapped his bathrobe around himself as he walked, tying it with the first few steps down the stairs.

“Let’s go down the hall. Garcia’s still in the foyer,” Hotch whispered, leading an apprehensive Rossi in the opposite direction of Garcia once they reached the base of the stairs. Once out of earshot, he stopped, putting an arm against the wall of the hallways and looking away from Rossi.

“I said some things to Reagan a while ago. Things I shouldn’t have said. I don’t know what to do.” Hotch covered his face in embarrassment as Rossi made a face at him.

“What could you have _possibly-_ "

“-I profiled her. Harshly.”

Rossi was silent for a while. Eventually, a quiet “oh” left his lips, and he stared at Hotch, stunned. “It couldn’t have been that bad-” Rossi tried again, but Hotch interrupted him once more.

“-I told her that she was aggressive, suicidal and reckless, and that her inability to connect with others was because of how her parents abused her mentally and physically.”

“ _Damn._ ” Rossi was wincing.

“That’s not all. I told her that she didn’t have the traits for the BAU, and her traits limited her to her job in the pentagon essentially because that was all she was good for.”

“Aaron. You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“Did she profile you back?”

“No. When I became the subject of the conversation, she spent her chance to profile me by giving me a pseudo therapy session about Haley.”

“She took the higher ground,” Rossi observed.

“Yes. And now I’ve made it worse.”

“What did you do.”

“I said that her self-sacrificing behavior wouldn’t be acceptable during her stay with the BAU.”

Rossi leaned down, gripping the chair in front of him as he let out a long breath. He didn’t look at Hotch.

“When did you say all of this?”

“I profiled here when we were stuck together in March. I said the things about her behavior yesterday in my office.”

Rossi stared at Hotch. “You know, I thought you might be able to get yourself out of the whole profiling thing, but now I’m not so sure,” Rossi groaned. He took a few moments to think, then finally looked up at Hotch. “Okay. Here’s what you’re going to do: you’re only going to say positive things about Reagan, and you’re going to do it in her vicinity. Reagan is the type to forgive too easily, and I have the feeling that she didn’t care if you said what you did, but even so, you need to make sure she’s appreciated.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“You’ll have to try.”

I stole a blanket from the queen bed and a few from the closet in the hall before settling in for the night. Dropping my blankets on the couch, I grabbed my gun from my hip and set it on top of my bag with my Pentagon badge, perfectly set next to where my head would be before falling onto the couch and throwing the blankets over myself.

I don’t know how long Hotch was gone, but he didn’t come back for a long time. When he did, he accidentally closed the door loudly, and I jerked up from the couch to watch him come in.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” He dropped his bag by the door.

“Eh. Can’t sleep.”

“Why can’t you sleep?” 

_Was that concern in his voice?_

“Thinking about Ramey. He’s probably not going to make it.”

“It’s out of our hands,” Hotch tried to make me feel better. It had the opposite effect.

I wanted to smack him. “You _know_ my job at the Pentagon is to make sure there aren’t any more victims, you asshole. It’s still in my hands.”

“By making yourself a victim.” Hotch looked at me accusatory.

“Yeah. Exactly.” I turned over and away from him, ignoring what he meant by that.

“What did I say about your job here?”

“That I wasn’t allowed to get shot?” I grumbled, annoyed. 

“That you’re not permitted to get shot for someone else, but yes, I would advise against getting shot in general.”

I turned to face him again. “You know I can still call you a bitch if it’s not in front of the team?”

“What?”

“You only specified that I can’t call you a bitch in front of the team. That means I can call you a bitch right now. You’re a bitch, Aaron.”

“...Did I say something wrong? Am I wrong?” I caught a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

“Yes, you’re wrong. No, you can’t make me feel better. Being useless is just something I have to get used to on my own.”

“You're not useless,” Hotch tried again, but I shook my head.

“Not in the position of a BAU agent, I’m not. But compared to my actual job? Yeah, I’m pretty damn useless.” I shuffled around. “Here, let me put it into perspective. I used to be able to stop unsubs from taking more victims by projecting myself as their ideal victim and letting them take me, immediately taking out other potential victims out of harm’s way and getting the criminal caught. Can you see how drastically that differs from the BAU?”

“...Yes.”

“Do you see how you couldn’t make me feel any better right now?”

“Yes.”

“ _Thank_ you.” I turned back over for what I was hoping was the last time.

“Why didn’t you take the bed?” Hotch questioned as he walked past the kitchenette.

“I should think you wouldn’t fit on this couch.” I gestured down the length of my body covered with blankets.

“You don’t fit either.”

“Better me than you.”

“...There’s that self sacrifice again.” Hotch glared at me from the side of the bed.

“Can I ask you what you talked to Rossi about?”

“No.”

I snorted, then sat up, peeling some of the blankets away. “You’re making this so much more difficult than it has to be.” 

Hotch looked over to retort something back, then stopped. “You’re wearing your clothes from today?”

“Yeah. I like to be prepared.” 

_We’ll probably get called out of bed to deal with another murder._

Hotch was clearly judging me from his spot by the bed, but he wisely chose not to comment, instead walking back over to his bag and opening it. He took out his own clothes to sleep in before walking over to the bathroom. He didn’t say anything, ignoring my presence as he walked in and shut the door behind him. 

“ _Idiot,_ ” I coughed, laying back down and pulling the blankets up to my face.


	5. Dark of the Night

“ _Help!_ ”

“Was that-” I groaned, sitting up in the dark.

“Yeah.” Hotch swung his feet out of bed, rushing to throw his jacket on.

“Help! HELP! PLEASE, SOMEBODY, COME HELP HERE!”

“Is that Garcia?” I grabbed my gun and badge, quickly strapping them on as I slid into my shoes. I didn’t bother throwing my own jacket on that I’d discarded in the night by my couch.

“SOMEONE IS HURT! PLEASE!”

“That’s Garcia,” Hotch confirmed, breathless as he hurried to put warmer clothes on. 

I was out the door before he was, running down the stairs and passing a bleary-eyed Prentiss and JJ. I didn’t say anything as I got out of the lodge and towards the voice as fast as I could.

“GARCIA?” I called out, stopping to gasp in the cold Alaskan night air before pushing past the large wood doors to the lodge.

“HERE! PLEASE, HELP!” Garcia’s voice was hoarse and painful.

I ran to the voice, unholstering my gun and keeping it at the ground as I ran. “Garcia!” I hollered, but then I saw it.

Garcia was sitting over a body, frame illuminated by a dropped flashlight. 

“Garcia. Are you hurt?” I ran up to her, looking around.

“No, I’m fine,” Garcia sobbed, clinging to the man on the ground. “But he-he’s-” she couldn’t finish the sentence. 

“It’s okay.” I got down, looking at the man. Even though he was covered in blood, I recognized him, and patted Garcia’s shoulder before leaning down to check his pulse as I fought back a massive wave of defeat. As I felt his neck, JJ and Prentiss caught up, guns and flashlights in hand.

“Is he alive?” Prentiss breathed from above me. I shook my head.

“Sorry.” I tried to hold Garcia as she shook.

“Is that-” JJ started, and I interrupted.

“-Ramey, yeah. Didn’t get the message in time.” I sighed, long and loud before holstering my gun. JJ pulled out her satellite cell and started putting in a number. 

“Hey. Hey,” I rubbed Garcia’s back softly, trying to ease her tears. 

JJ put her phone to her ear. “This is Agent Jereau with the BAU. We need an ambulance, and I need to speak with the Sheriff.”

“Is Greg Ramey the victim?” And there was Hotch, stepping up behind me.

“Yeah, Levine just I.D.’d him,” Prentiss squatted close to the body. 

“Garcia, I know this is going to be very hard, but I need you to stand, okay?” I took the opportunity to help get Garcia off of her knees and onto her feet, steadying her against my body. 

“H-he- he was just-”

“I know. Shhhhh. It’s gonna be okay.” I hugged Garcia as I steered her away from the body, hiding it from her view. “Let’s get inside and get you some cocoa, okay?” I eyed Hotch to let him know, and he made eye contact, quickly nodding and turning back to the body.

“H- _he won’t be able to have cocoa ever again,_ ” Garcia suddenly blubbered, breaking into a new round of tears.

“Let’s get you inside before we talk, okay? You’re living, so you’re important right now. Not him. That was the _wrong_ thing to say.” I realized that I probably wasn’t helping the situation and shut up, choosing to haul her to the lodge as she sobbed into my shoulder. I was never one for cheering people up.

 _Shit shit shit shit,_ I muttered in my head, running my own words over and over again in my mind as I got Garcia away from the body.

I managed to get Garcia to the doors, where a hurried Morgan unconsciously shoulder-checked me as he shoved past in eagerness to get to the crime scene. He turned quickly to apologize, then saw Garcia.

“Penelope?” He quickly walked back and wrapped an arm around her other side.

 _Thank god,_ I thought. Morgan would know how to help her better than I could. I might be oblivious to other people’s feelings, but from the moment I’d seen them together, I could tell they had a special friendship I’d never be able to achieve. He’d do a great job at calming her down.

“I’ll update you later?” I locked eyes with him as I spoke quietly. Like Hotch, he nodded quickly before steering Garcia into the building. 

“ _COCOA,_ ” I whisper-yelled at him as he looked back. 

“ _Right,_ ” Morgan whispered back before turning away.

I exhaled a massive amount of air I’d been holding in as I watched him take her away, my tensed shoulders unclenching. I held a hand to my face and closed my eyes. I knew I wasn't good at consoling people, and I’d been dreading being the first person to talk with Garcia, no matter how much I liked her. 

When I looked back to the distant body, the wave of defeat I’d been fighting in order to make sure Garcia was okay finally crashed. I forced my face into place with my hand, wiping it over my features and painting a poker face on it, bringing my head up. It took everything in me to straighten my shoulders and open my eyes. When I did, I saw a worried Agent Rossi staring right back, having just walked through the lodge doors.

“...Levine?”

“I’m good. Will Garcia be okay?” 

_Great, my voice is perfectly devoid of emotion. Let’s keep it that way._

“She’ll be okay.” Rossi stared at me like he was cross examining me for an investigation. I didn’t like the feeling I had that he was playing the father figure cop.

“Will you be okay?” 

I’d hoped he wouldn’t ask that.

“Absolutely.” I gave him an exaggeratedly cheery smile. It was my best bet to pretend like nothing had happened, though I gathered that Rossi would be the last person on the team to let something go.

I didn’t give Rossi the option to refute my statement, instead spinning around and walking back to the others. The sheriff had arrived. He stood awkwardly, like he didn’t know what to do with himself. As I approached, JJ started backing away from the group and towards the lodge.

“I’m going to make sure Morgan and Garcia will be alright,” she told Hotch, then disappeared from my peripheral vision.

There was a nice gap between Prentiss and Hotch. I claimed it. “I think we can confirm that the unsub is targeting people leaving town,” I grumbled as professionally as possible as I stepped up next to Hotch, looking down at Ramey.

_Breathing just minutes before. Talking just hours ago._

“He’s accelerating his schedule. We should have had another day. Why change that?” Reid looked between the group.

 _THANK YOU, Reid,_ I silently looked up at the sky. I desperately needed the distraction of problem-solving. 

“Ramey was pretty vocal about wanting to get out of town. If the unsub knew that, he could have struck early to prevent his target from getting away,” Prentiss added.

“His leaving quicker hastened the unsub, but there’s something else.” I shoved my hands in my jeans, realizing that I hadn’t put on my jacket. I had a fantastic tolerance to the cold.

_Damn, this is Alaska._

I might have overestimated my tolerance.

“There has to be.” Rossi spoke up, gazing down at the victim. “He brought the body to the tavern we’re staying at.” Rossi pulled out a flashlight and squatted by the body, examining the wounds to Ramey’s person. Reid followed him down, leaning over him from behind.

“He’s telling us that he’s not afraid of us,” Hotch tilted his head to Prentiss and myself. “He’s gaining confidence.”

“Switched to a hunting knife,” Rossi looked around as Reid peered over his shoulder. “Looks like a jagged edge.

“There’s more physical damage, too, like he was cut open,” Reid shuffled, then stood up straight. “I won’t know until Dr. Johnson does an autopsy, but I’d be willing to bet he took a piece of the victim with him.”

“What kind of piece?” Hotch looked increasingly concerned.

“It’s hard to say, but judging from the location, I could guess liver or spleen.” Dr. Reid, ever brilliant.

“I would say that this screams trophies if not for the culture of the town,” I gave Hotch a look. “Is everyone thinking what I’m thinking?”

“If not trophies, then…” Reid looked between Rossi and I.

“Food.” Prentiss finished the thought, zipping up her jacket. “The culture of this town supports a hunter mindset.”

“It’s very likely he’s freezing meat from the victims and/or eating it.” I watched my breath smoke as I spoke.

“Lovely.” Rossi raised his eyebrows sarcastically.

We all stared at Ramey in the darkness.

When we regrouped in front of lodge, tired from pinging ideas off of each other (not to mention getting up in the middle of the night), Morgan met us outside, a puffy jacket on. I was immediately jealous.

“Was Garcia able to give you any new information?” Hotch immediately asked upon seeing Morgan appear.

 _How about asking how Garcia is doing instead?_ I tried not to roll my eyes.

“She’s given all she can.” Morgan’s tone was sharp, like he was upset about something someone else said.

_Uh oh. Something didn’t go over well._

“This guy’s taunting us. He’s one step ahead.” Rossi was grumpy as hell. I didn’t blame him.

“I think you’re giving him more credit than he deserves. It’s like Prentiss said on the plane, he’s all over the place. The victimology is inconsistent, the methodology is evolving, the first kill was sloppy, hesitant, and unplanned.”

 _That was my idea._ Now I was grumpy, too.

“It was an accident,” Prentiss realized, “but it triggered a sexual response. He got off on it.”

“And he knew then and there he had to kill again. He learned how to get the job done more efficiently.” 

_Kind of redundant, Morgan, but alright._ I was _not_ in a great mood.

“Yeah, but why the organs?” The sheriff finally spoke up. 

“Consumption typically indicates a desire to keep the victim with them. He’s having trouble letting go. We’re probably looking for someone with severe abandonment issues.”

 _That’s exactly what I said before._ It took everything in myself not to snark something out. 

Hotch took a moment before coming to a decision. “It’ll be light soon. Let’s get everybody together and go over what we know,” He looked up at us all.

_Goddammit. No break._

I told myself to be positive over and over again in my head as I followed everyone else inside the lodge to form our unsub profile.


	6. You Don't Want to Be Like Me

I stayed mostly silent while we were building the profile, only doing my part to make sure the others didn’t miss anything. If anyone noticed my silence, nothing was said, so I just stuck to sulking in the corner of the fireplace like I had the night before.

It took me way too long to figure out why the case was getting under my skin. Nothing in the case itself stuck out to me, and the case itself wouldn’t have been a case I would have been deployed on before joining the BAU. It was incredibly forgettable. The deaths weren’t any more violent than the average Pentagon case, there was no torture, and nothing was present that reminded me of a forgotten trauma I’d buried. Sticking in my mind was my failure to save Ramey, but I couldn’t afford to even think about that on the job. As I thought about other issues I could solve, it became apparent that my concerns about working with a group had not been unfounded; it was the BAU I was getting stuck in my head with. It wasn’t any more comforting than guilt-tripping myself over Ramey.

_Okay, let’s think this through. Exactly what are you having problems with right now? Why are you feeling like you don’t work with the group?_

I let out a breath as I looked around at the team, still working on the damn profile. I was going to need to find a time to work this out with myself before it started affecting the team. 

JJ poked her head around the stairs to glance at everyone in the foyer. 

“How’s Garcia?” I made eye contact with her as I spoke, and she stepped into the room. 

“Not great, but she’ll be okay. She could use a little time alone now, but someone will need to be here with her while we give our profile to the police.” From JJ’s face, I could tell that she had had about as much luck as Morgan had an hour earlier. I knew what I had to do.

“I can do that.” I nodded at her, ignoring the confused looks I got from some of the other agents.

“Are you sure?” Hotch looked up from his low eyebrows.

“Yeah. I’ve had a lot of experience talking with survivors and witnesses. I know what to say.” 

Morgan huffed quietly at that, but I was the only one who noticed, the other agents returning to gathering the profile. I let it go, instead focusing on the case. 

When the time came for everyone else to meet with the sheriff’s department in the dining room, JJ walked over to me and showed me an empty mug in her hands. 

“She’s already had six cups of black tea and who knows how much coffee. She probably shouldn’t have any more caffeine, so if you can find herbal tea, she’d love that,” She quietly told me, passing the mug over.

“Alright. Has she slept at all, or should I try getting her to take a nap?”

“I would say yes, but judging by how much caffeine she’s had and how anxious she is right now, it would be really hard.” 

“I’ll give it my best shot.” I knew that the lack of sleep would just make her increasingly more anxious throughout the day. 

“Thanks for doing this,” JJ nodded at me before joining the others.

‘ “No problem,” I whispered at the cup.

“We’ll meet back here within three hours!” She called back, and I smiled at her, giving her a thumbs up with my free hand.

I watched them all go through the dining room door, the flurry of activity silencing with their retreating footsteps from behind the closed wood. Silence flooded the lodge. Then, a sniffle from the direction of the kitchen. 

“Here we go.” I took in a breath as I made my way over to where Garcia was waiting.

When I got to the open doors to the tile-paved room, I knocked softly on the wooden doorframe, peeking around it and to where Garcia sat huddled over a stool next to the stove.

“Hey,” she sniffed, sinking further into the blanket that covered her shoulders. 

“Hey,” I replied, stepping into the kitchen and moving up to the stool next to her. I stared at her, mascara running, before looking around the kitchen.

“Where do they keep the tea?” 

Garcia pointed at a cabinet left slightly open. “JJ said no more tea for me,” she smiled sadly, and I shrugged.

“She told me no caffeine. That means you can still have tea,” I grinned back, then made my way around the stove to get to the cabinet. 

I loved the design of the kitchen, and I enjoyed the touch of the brass cabinet knob on the dark red wood as I opened it fully. The scent of many teas met my nose as I gazed inside.

“Oh wow. They’ve got a collection,” I muttered with appreciation, looking through the many boxes and cans.

“Ceylon… lapsang… _oh my god,_ they’ve got _really_ old Da Hong-Pao. How the hell did they get vintage Da Hong-Pao up here?” I raised my eyebrows as I perused the cabinet. I turned to Garcia. “Do you know how expensive this shit is? Holy hell.”

“Yeah. Wow.” Garcia sniffed again as she scrunched her nose.

“A fellow tea connoisseur. We should steal some on the way back.” I winked at her, and she giggled brokenly. The tea collection stole my attention again. “This is incredible. What did JJ give you before?”

“I have no clue,” Garcia shrugged. 

I examined the boxes. Most of them were covered in dust, save for a few fingerprints on the Da Hong-Pao.

“Uhhh….” I debated whether to tell Garcia the unfortunate news or not. “Exactly how good is JJ at brewing tea?”

“She’s not great, but she did okay. She’s a coffee drinker.”

_Oh no._ “Did she use just one kind of tea?” I weakly asked, trying not to look at Garcia.

“Yeah?”

“JJ told me she gave you black tea. I hate to tell you this, but…” I couldn’t say it, instead freezing up in front of the boxes. 

“What? Tell me what?”

“Uh….” I continued to stare at the boxes, gathering up the courage to check the Da Hong-Pao. “Who owns the place? How much do they care about the tea, exactly?”

“Carol Beardsly and her son Josh. They’re really nice; they said we could make whatever we wanted, and that the tea is from their grandfather’s old collection. They thought it might have all gone bad, but that’s not how tea works.” Garcia giggled again, but when I didn’t respond, she frowned. “Levine, what’s wrong?”

“Uh, well, you see, JJ might have picked an especially interesting choice of tea to make you.” I really didn’t want to say it out loud.

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah. Uh, I’ll check how much she used, I guess?” I grabbed the Da Hong-Pao box and reluctantly, ever-so-gently opened it, peering inside.

“...Oh thank god,” I let out a huge sigh as I turned and smiled at Garcia. “She just used a little, and it looks like the seal was opened years ago.”

“Oh. Oh, good.” Garcia looked a little nauseous, so I moved on.

“How about tieguanyin? Wait, no. Caffeinated. Hang on-” I looked deeper into the cupboard, reached in, and pulled out a newer box. 

_Chamomile._

“How does chamomile sound? Bland, but might help,” I held up the box.

“Sure.” Garcia didn’t sound very enthusiastic, so I put it down and looked again.

“...Dandelion? How about dandelion?” I turned to her again.

“Oh, yeah.” 

I took note of her increased enthusiasm and took out the new tea, heading for the kettle on the stove. I filled it with water and set the stove on before turning and getting out some tieguanyin for myself.

“What the hell was a rich tea collector doing in this town?” I mused, rummaging around in the drawers for a spoon. 

“Their family moved here a long time ago. Something about a company collapsing, but everyone who’s here now was born here. Well, the two that are left.” Garcia looked down at her empty mug sadly as my hand found a spoon. I noticed the conversation was going in the wrong direction, so I switched subjects. 

“Have you had dandelion tea before?”

“No,” Garcia looked up.

“It’s not bad. Definitely sweet.” 

The kettle whistled.

“That was fast,” I looked at it suspiciously. “Must’ve still been hot.”

I took my time taking back Garcia’s mug and pouring in the hot water slowly and steadily. Years ago, someone had told me that putting my love into what I was making was like a witch’s spell, and that I could make someone feel better with my intent. It was a habit now. Even if I didn’t know if I believed it, I made sure to stir Garcia’s tea slowly as I imagined something warm and fuzzy leaving my hands and seeping into the liquid gold.

“Here you go,” I smiled at her, passing the mug over the counter lightly before turning to make my own cup.

“It’s fun watching you make tea,” Garcia suddenly said, and I stopped briefly before continuing to put my tieguanyin leaves in the kettle. I hadn’t thought she’d been watching.

“You make it the right way, and you do it very deliberately. Like a tea ceremony.” She sipped the tea.

_She’s tired and drained,_ I told myself, watching the clock by the stove to mark two minutes of steeping time. “I like to make food or drinks with intent.”

“Like a witch?”

“I’m not a witch.”

“Oh.” Garcia looked disappointed. 

“I mean, I do a few things that are witchy, or superstitious, but I wouldn't call myself a witch,” I decided, then went to look for some sugar.

Garcia smiled at me. “So, you _are_ a witch.” 

I snorted. “You’re not going to let that go, are you.”

“Nope.” Garcia sipped at her tea again, still smiling. 

“Are you pagan?”

“Oh my god.” I sighed, finding the sugar and turning back to the oolong tea. 

“You are. Let me guess. Wiccan?”

“Definitely not,” I took the kettle off the stove and started pouring it into a new mug.

“Hellenist?”

“Nope.” 

“Christian white witch?”

“Not a witch,” I put a spoonful of sugar in the tea and started stirring it like I had Garcia’s tea.

Garcia watched me intensely, trying to guess why I was doing it the way I was.

“Druidism?”

“For the record, calling non-christian religions pagan is offensive to a lot of people,” I raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry. It’s druidism, isn’t it?”

“Not even close.” A smile broke out on my face as Garcia looked stumped.

“Native American?” She looked nervous.

“That’s an ethnic group, and no, but you’re closer. Just keep in mind that I’m not very religious.”

“Hoodoo?”

“Closer.”

“Can I get a hint? Are you latina?”

“No and no.”

“That takes out brujeria and santeria.”

“Yep.”

“Please? A little hint?”

“Heavily ocean-related.”

“That doesn’t help. You’re too ethnically ambiguous.” 

“Too bad,” I laughed, taking the spoon out of my mug and bringing the tea up to steam my face as I smelled it. “This smells delicious.” 

“What if I told you what I was?”

“A form of neo paganism with Catholic roots? Christian white witch, but I’m guessing you involve some of your latin american heritage in your practice.” I blew on the hot tea.

“How did you know?” Garcia’s mouth hung open.

I shrugged. “I know my stuff. Any more guesses, or do you want to talk about something else?”

“...Something else.” 

_At least she knows when she’s beat,_ I smiled inwardly as I sipped the tea. 

“Oooo. This is high-grade,” I told Garcia, nodding at my cup.

“Why can’t I have any more caffeine?” Garcia looked genuinely sad.

“You haven’t slept in forever, and not sleeping plus caffeine ends in increased anxiety. Even though tea is calming, caffeine could potentially reverse the relaxing effects of warm mugs.” When Garcia didn’t respond, I continued. “I’ll steal some for you when we go back to Virginia, okay?”

“Okay.” Garcia was quiet, but she sipped her dandelion tea as I sipped my tieguanyin.

I took a few moments to think as I drank my tea. It smelled like orchids with an almost caramel taste, both floral and full. I looked at Garcia. She seemed to be doing better, but Morgan and JJ’s responses to talking to her were lingering on my mind. 

“I’m guessing that Morgan said some things that he shouldn’t have, right?” I broke the silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Are you going to tell me that I did the wrong thing?” 

“No, I don’t think you did.” I set down my tea. “Is that what he said?”

Garcia sniffled wetly, tearing up again. “He said that I shouldn’t have gone out, and then he started interrogating me.”

“That’s insensitive. He was wrong; you didn’t even get far from the lodge.” 

A tear slipped down Garcia’s face. “He’s mad at me.”

“I think he’s worried about you and doesn’t know how to place his worry. That doesn’t excuse what he said, but that’s most likely what he’s feeling,” I started, walking over to sit next to her. 

“That’s what JJ said.” Garcia was crying again.

“Regardless, it was the wrong response. He should have been more concerned about your feelings.”

“But I didn’t do anything. I couldn’t help.”

“Garcia, your response was the right one because it means you cared, not because you could have saved him. You don’t need to worry about the technicalities like that. You’re a good person. That’s what matters.”

“Is it what you would’ve done?”

I paused, thinking. “I’d have to know exactly what happened to answer, but based on what I’ve heard, yes. I would have.”

“I went out to try to fix the signal because we lost connection, and I heard something so I walked over, and I saw them, and he ran away,” Garcia spoke fast, voice rising. I took her mug from her and set it on the counter so that it wouldn’t spill.

“Nothing out of the ordinary in that. You did what anyone would have done. If you’d ran away first, he could have chased you, and you wouldn’t have a visual on him. That’s a lot more dangerous.”

Garcia didn’t seem convinced, so I put an arm around her. She immediately fell into my chest.

“Hey, I’m going to tell you something that I don’t talk about much, okay?”

“Okay,” Garcia muffled into my shoulder.

“You know how it was my job to become the victim before, right?”

“Yeah. I did a background check on you even though Hotch told me not to,” she admitted. I smiled even though she couldn’t see it.

“Right. Well, more often than not, I don’t make it in time to save someone. More often than not, I watch someone die. I’ve watched a lot of people die. There are a lot of cases where I think I should’ve done better. When I know I could’ve done better. There have been many times when it should have been me dead instead of a victim, and tonight? It would’ve been me instead of Ramey if I weren’t working with the BAU. It should’ve been. I get caught up in guilt, but my job doesn’t allow for me to create bonds with other people, so I don’t have anyone to lean on. As Hotch said, I lead a ‘solitary life of aggression’. It only gets better if you lose your humanity.” I backtracked. “I’m sorry, I know that isn’t very positive, but it’s honest. What I mean is that getting upset still means you have your humanity. You’re a good person, and more than that, you’ve got a closely-knit team that will support you, you know that?”

Garcia turned her head a bit against me so that she wasn’t as muted. “Do you get upset? When you see someone die,” she whispered.

It was something else I didn’t want to say. “Sometimes. Less times than I’d like to admit, but I can’t afford it.” I held her a little tighter. “I’m sorry for darkening the mood. I just wanted you to know that you did everything anyone could.”

“It’s okay.” 

“I know that I don’t know you very well yet, Garcia, but even from the little bit of time I’ve known you, I know that you couldn’t hurt a fly. That’s not a bad thing. It’s good to not be like me.” I rubbed her back, trying to distract myself from remembering my guilt over Ramey.

“But you’re cool,” Garcia whimpered against me.

“What? No, you definitely do not want to be me. I thought you ran my background check?”

“I did.”

“Then why would you think I’m cool?”

“Everything you did, you did for the right reasons.”

“Garcia-”

“-No,” Garcia sat up straight and faced me. “You were like me. We’ve both done bad things for the right reasons.”

“When have you _murdered_ someone?” I raised my eyebrows at her. She really hadn’t seemed the type, but I could have been wrong.

“...I haven’t,” Garcia finally admitted, looking away before picking her mug back off the counter.

“That’s a good thing. You know that’s a good thing, right?”

“I don’t want to kill anyone,’ Garcia confirmed before sipping her tea once more.

“Great. That’s the goal.” I took my own mug from off the counter, joining her in enjoying it’s warmth. 

The tieguanyin really was amazing and I found myself drinking three cups of it, even offering Garcia a taste. She agreed that it was spectacular and told me that she’d take me up on stealing some to take home. After chatting some more, I convinced her to try to lay down and get some sleep, even if she couldn’t do anything but stare at the ceiling. I was still in the kitchen sipping tea when some of the others got back from the dining hall meeting.

“Levine? Hotch wants you to meet up with him and the sheriff to interview the schoolteacher,” JJ walked into the kitchen.

“I’ll be right there.” I gave Garcia one last pat on the shoulder before draining my mug and passing JJ on my way out of the kitchen. 

I thought about the disagreement from the night before and how I would be working with Hotch. 

_Don’t fuck it up, Reagan._


End file.
